Caged Chapter 7

Rule on living with monsters...to beat them, you need to become one.

Two years into Statesville, despite the odds, Todd Manning had become a powerful man. He knew things, he could accomplish things. Other higher-ups kept a cool distance from him while at the same time depending on him for much needed information. He walked with an attitude, he never backed down from a challenge, and when he fought, he fought dirty and hard. If an inmate got lucky and beat him, Todd would look at that guy with so much hate, and one day later, that "winner" found himself at the end of someone else's shank, dead or wounded.

Todd was the king of vengeance, a king of low-down snakes...

His days were filled with library work and prison politics, his nights doped up and flying out of Statesville, cruising the airwaves to his beloveds. He wrote letters then, wonderful, colorful, peaceful letters. He grew to love his wife and children even more from behind bars than he ever believed he could outside.

Solitary confinement was still an unfortunate routine for him - he tended to get in the guards' faces too often, tended to show a little too much rebellion, and fought way too much. In fact, more and more, he lost touch with normal conduct. If someone bumped into him, he didn't just accept the apology, he threw them down and beat the shit out of them. Same went for bad looks, inadvertent ball tosses, anything. His language consisted mainly of cursing, threatening, and the hell he'd be raining down on the very next man in his way. He ate fast and showered fast, and he never looked at his own reflection.

If there was a fight nearby, Todd would sit back in the crowd, taking bets and laughing at the damage. He tried to feel compassion...but simply couldn't. The only space in which he was a person of any decency was when he was high in his bunk, writing and reading letters to and from his beloveds.

Deeper and deeper he sunk into his connections with the prison gangs. Some were his enemies, some were his cohorts. Whoever they were, they treated him with care - step on Todd wrong and he had information to end a key person's life.

The only thing that kept him alive, was the same reason people wanted him dead: he knew too many useful things. If he got taken out, life at Statesville would become dull and difficult again due to limited trades and limited access to the outside.

At the same time, Todd did protect the vulnerables. He "employed" a few younger kids in Statesville that were...delicate, smaller, and usually in high demand for their inability to fight sexual assaults. He used his new-found reputation as an accomplished sexual predator to "fight" others for the right to keep that kid. People usually chose not to fight Todd - it just wasn't worth it.

But Todd was no saint with these kids. He was mean, and dangerous. They had a tightrope to walk to maintain the connection. The kids knew that if they did not play their role correctly, if they got too...confident, too free, Todd would turn his back on them.

It happened to Braydon.

See, the kid failed to follow through. Didn't act as submissive as he should. One afternoon, he began to get pushed around by the the Irish Dirty Riders in a basketball game. Todd was on the bleachers, watching. He'd been getting increasingly dissatisfied with Brayden's attitude, with his...not acting like a person being raped on a regular basis. He was making Todd look weak. Rolon and some other MK soldiers were sitting next to Todd and watching the tension play out on the court between Brayden and the Irish.

Finally, one of the guys pushed Brayden to the ground. The leader looked at Todd, asking permission, because no one takes the property of another without permission, especially Todd's property. Todd eyed Braydon, then gave the requisite nod.

So one of the soldiers took the kid, dragging him towards the portable classrooms. Todd watched and did nothing, felt nothing, knowing what was going to happen. See...the kid needed to be reminded what it was like to be without protection. Rolon tsked, "Kid got cocky."

"Yup."

No surprise, Brayden ended up in the infirmary. When he returned to his cell, damaged and bruised, he was painfully pissed off. Todd was kicking back in his bunk, reading a borrowed book from the library, a classic. The Odyssey.

"I'll tell those Aryan bastards about you, motherfucker," Brayden hissed. "You said you'd protect me. Well, fuck, I'm not going to protect YOU anymore. They'll want this information - they'll want to know about your seizures."

Todd glanced up from his book. Popped some trail mix into his mouth. And Brayden swallowed a big rock in his throat when he caught sight of this guy's glare. He started to run, but Todd grabbed him, shoved him back inside the cell, and pushed him against the cell door. He put his hand on Brayden's cheeks, squeezing them tight. His eyes moved all around the kid's face, from top to bottom. Then the hand dropped to the kid's throat and slammed the kid into the cell bars, the kid nearly choking for the grip his cellmate had on him.

Real quietly, Todd said, "Go ahead, bitch. You think they're going to let you live long enough to see if what you say is true? You think they're going to wait around for that 'seizure' to come along?"

"It'll be worth it. 'Cause when you're sprawled out on your ass...they will fucking kill you. You won't even know what hit you."

Todd laughed, his lip twitching, his breathing sped up.

"Why don't we just see about that." Grabbing Brayden by the back of his shirt, he pulled the kid out of the cell, walking hard and fast down the hallway. Inmates were laughing at the sight, mocking Brayden. Todd ended up at the door of a high ranking Blue Aryan.

Throwing the kid at the feet of the guy, Todd said, "He isn't behaving. You wanna have a go at him?"

Brayden realized that his cellmate had been right. One look at the Aryan and the kid threw himself at Todd, holding his legs, apologizing wetly in utter terror. Todd disentangled himself. The kid crawled closer to him. Todd walked back a few more steps, the kid crawling more, begging.

The Blue Aryan just shook his head. Said to Todd - you let us know when you want us to take him and we will.

"Fuckin' crawl, bitch, back to the cell."

The boy did. Crawled behind Todd all the way home. Back inside, Todd looked around, and put up that sheet. Beat the hell out of Brayden for his bad attitude. Brayden never stepped out of line again. Did his job. Got Todd's protection. Yeah, Todd maintained control of those kids he was "saving," by being a real bastard. By being a monster.

That night...he cut the letters again on his knuckles. He was forgetting who he was. He was forgetting.

Next morning...back to the usual.

Todd not only got heroin in payment for his information, but also good food, gambling markers, electronic bullshit, clothes, gifts from moms and dads and kids, and information. One afternoon, he received a very special gift for some much needed information. He was on his cot as it was raining outside. Los Serranos, a hard-core Puerto Rican gang, wanted the goods on a rival organization. Todd put a high price on it because it was risky. They couldn't meet the demand. So they brought him something real special.

He looked up at the knock on his cell door, finding Jessie Horenda standing there with a shit-eating grin on his face. Todd instantly hated the guy. Jessie purred like a fat fuckin' cat, "Hey there, dude. We still want that shit on the Twentieth Century pussies."

"I told you the price. You have it?"

"No, I got something much better."

"And what the fuck-"

Jessie turned and said, "Come here, bitch."

What showed up was a boy. Diego Loriz. Skinny, dead-eyed, long black hair down to the middle of his back. He was wearing Statesville-issued sweats that were too big and rolled up at the bottom to make them look like a woman's mid-length pants. He wore no shirt. Instead, he had a bra drawn in black pen on his chest, and the word, 'bitch' equally drawn on his belly.

"Show him, bitch, show him your mouth."

The kid opened his mouth, showing he had no teeth.

Horenda smiled, "You know what feels like? He can't bite...he sucks...soft as a woman's pussy. I know you'll like that. 'Cause I like it."

Todd was frozen in place, cemented to the bed. This boy couldn't have been more than fourteen but Todd knew that wasn't possible. His blood heated with a kind of rage that beat all. He blinked two, three times. Blood rushed in his head, pounding through his body, churning his insides, hot, unyielding...sickening.

Horenda said, "Between you and me...I took those teeth out." He laughed. "Fucked him so hard, his face hit the blocks man...everything fell out. Anything that didn't, I pulled out. He's precious, brother. Like pudding now. Like fucking tapioca pudding!"

Todd bit his tongue until he felt the salty taste of blood.

Diego got pushed in front of Todd.

"Satisfaction guaranteed, Manning. Give us the information if you like him - I know you will enjoy him. He'll beat out all those other kids you been fucking. Bitch, show him your dick. Do it. Do your thing."

The boy did just that - dropped his pants. Started in on himself. Todd couldn't move. He had to breathe...breathe to stay calm, breathed to look like this was normal, like this was all so damn desirable. The boy reached the climax but didn't stop. He was a robot. He'd been so beaten that there wasn't a person in that body anymore. Todd got up and pushed Horenda out, shaking sick with rage, sick with self-control. Horenda was too big, too powerful to simply kill. Todd turned around and calmly put the sheet up, hearing Horenda laughing down the hallway.

He turned to the boy who was still at it. Dead...dead...a dead soul, dead eyes.

"Stop," Todd said, "Please...stop." The kid wouldn't quit. Todd pushed him, trying to get the kid to stop. The kid didn't. Todd finally grabbed him, pulling him down to the ground, leaning back against the bunk's legs, "Stop...stop...stop..." Todd squeezed the kid to him, holding his head, holding his body so tight, the kid finally gave up. He kept him close, his mouth on that poor kid's head, feeling his heat, the sickness coming up through the kid like a corpse's stench.

The boy with those dead brown eyes turned his head up to look at Todd and opened his mouth, ready to be used.

"No," Todd whispered, no voice able to come out.

The boy then curled up like a cat in his arms, the kid's lanky legs stretched out on that cold concrete, and fell asleep. Todd was frozen, his brain shaking, shattering, the light of hell burning inside of him. A guard thought it was too quiet and pulled aside the sheet, seeing Todd with this naked kid on the floor. The guard looked a little surprised.

The only thing Todd could manage was a ragged, "Get him help."

When the kid was taken up, Todd was thrown into solitary for conduct unbecoming. His clothes were taken as was the norm. He vomited, over and over, so poisoned he'd been by the combination of hate, rage, and the effort of keeping it all in and not killing Horenda right there on the spot. He took one look at himself in the steel mirror, seeing who he'd become, seeing a distorted, twisted image, a monster. Smashed his head into that metal, until he collapsed, blood running down his face. Sick, sick, sick.

He vowed to kill Horenda, made a blood oath with himself, if it was the last thing he'd ever do in his life. All hell was about to come down on that motherfucker for what he'd done to an innocent. If Todd had become a monster in Statesville, he was going to use it for the greater fucking good. For Diego. For Brandy. For the child he used to be, the child that had been murdered oh so long ago, on that little bed, with the toy airplane swinging around and around and around, above and beyond his reach...

Tea listened to the story of Diego. She could imagine, and yet, she couldn't. How could that poor kid have gotten so...trashed... by the Pennsylvania prison system? Todd wasn't present...he was back in Statesville and she could see that fourth year shot in his eyes, in the lines on his face, in the muscles of his jaw. The hate scared her. She almost didn't move for fear he'd think she was someone else. Those defenses shined on him...at the ready.

She said nothing.

"He was in the infirmary for a week. They couldn't fix his teeth - no support from the county for it. And any private money was...weird. Discouraged. Money makes people into targets. They sent him back to gen. pop. I took him on. He was mine. My gift. My whore. I gave the information to...to that bastard, Horenda. People got killed. I found out that Diego got...used...by guards and inmates alike - I never noticed him, never saw him. He fell in between the cracks, getting passed around like a fuckin' 40 and nobody seemed to notice or care. They wanted him to stay like that."

"You...kept him," Tea said in a quiet voice, venturing into his world, like a deer stepping into a gentle lake. Sure enough, he turned suddenly, brought back into the car. He paused...

"Yeah I...I kept him...and I fucking beat the shit out of anyone who even fucking looked at him. My whore, my gift. I'd get him in the morning from his cell and have him with me all day until lights out. I threatened his cellmate with his disgusting life..." He looked down at his trembling hands, shaking his head, a complete show of the deepest misery. "God, he did not understand me, what I was doing."

Todd squeezed shut his eyes, the pain reaching far down into the depth of his being. Barely above a whisper, he said, "He was always offering himself to me - I don't like remembering that - I don't like it..."

He breathed deeply, his expression softening...

"I'd just back away, peel him off of me. Saying over and over the same things that Tim told me when I was in the hospital. That I'd never touch him or hurt him. That I was just his friend. And yet there he'd be...'cause he didn't know anything else. And it confused him. He'd look at me with this...confusion. Some days, I was too tired, too broken...I'd just lay in my cot and he'd be on me. Waiting for me to do something. I can still feel his hands, Tea,...pawing at me, touching me...with those dead eyes, with that mouth...open."

Leaning back, he watched the snow again, looking into the distance. These memories had been buried deep.

Todd sighed, "He'd track me with those eyes...around the cell block, in the library, in the yard. He'd watch me get into shit with people. When the guards got in my face, pulling me to solitary, he'd just look down at the ground, not knowing what to do. He didn't understand things around him. Especially now that nobody was abusing him. Life...confused him."

"Who took care of him when...when you went away? To solitary? How did you keep him safe?"

He looked down at his hands, inspecting his palms, instinctively touching the scars on one of his forearms. In a deepened, darker voice, he said, "People knew I'd find out if anyone touched him. People were scared of me...they respected my property. Shit would happen if I learned...that they touched ANY of my property."

Tea shuddered, an involuntary movement. She could imagine this, could imagine him. THIS was not that different than he'd ever been.

"What did he do when you were gone?"

"He'd follow the other kids around. The other kids...who worked for me. Brayden, Smithy, Daryl..."

Tea shot a look at her husband... "Did you say, Smithy? As in Smithy Jackson?"

He nodded, said under his breath, "Yes."

"He was one of the boys you protected? He works for you, he's been in our house...how could you...how is it..."

"I told you...I didn't want any of this to touch you." Todd rubbed his face hard, rubbing his own eyes. Leaned back again, staring out at the snow. It was cold. But he needed the cold. The memories made him hot with hate and unspent anger.

Tea sat back, too, shaking her head, fixing her gaze on the misted window. "Finish your story," she said.

He shrugged, resignation on his face. "It took nearly two months for him to look at me like a person, took two months for him to...wake up. The first time Diego said anything to me was on the bleachers. We were watching a game...and he said, 'am I alive?' I said yes, and he said, 'why?' I said the truth. 'I don't fuckin' know."

Minutes passed, his eyes focused on the steering wheel of the car. "So now you know who Diego Loriz was."

"But he died...you couldn't save him."

"No...," he said. "Four months after I met him, he got real sick. Fever, throwing up, the works. When I got to him in the morning, he couldn't get out of bed. I wanted to call for someone and he just held my arm. Looked at me with those glassy eyes and asked..."

He breathed out a hard breath, his face drawn in pain again, "He asked if he was going to hell and I said, 'there ain't no hell. This is it.' He wanted to know if the men who hurt him were going to hell. 'I guess not,' I said. He then asked if I could send them there."

Todd bit down on his teeth, gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles white with tension. He hit it...hit the steering wheel hard with his fist. Growled, "And I said, yes, that I'd do everything I could to send every person who ever hurt him straight to...fucking...hell." He blew out a puff of air, making himself settle. Finishing, finishing...

"He then asked for heroin. Asked how much would kill him and I told him that because he was small, an entire package would kill him. An hour later, I put one of those packages in his hand. He looked at me, and smiled that weird smile of his. Said words to me...I can't say aloud anymore, that I can't fucking FORGET. An hour after that, I got sent to solitary for … some shit... and I never saw him again." Todd pulled back his hair, closing his eyes, rocking his head back. "Diego killed himself because he never could figure out a reason to stay alive. This world...confused him. And I certainly couldn't help UNconfuse him."

He turned to Tea, seeing her face draped in a deep sadness, in utter...total...empathy, horror, disbelief.

"I have to go," he said. "I need to just walk. Go home...take care of our kids. I love you, them...more than anything...know that truth. Know it like you know gravity, like you know the sun comes up every morning...like you know that it sets every night."

He nodded, reached behind the seat and grabbed his coat. Pulled it into his lap.

Tea's voice drew his attention. "You haven't answered the question...are you in the Mambo Kings?"

He held her gaze and reached for her, his fingers running through the brown strands of her soft hair. In a voice cut with the blood of those kids, with the blood of the past, he said, "Yes, MK took me in, Tea. I committed my life to them because without MK, I couldn't kill Horenda, I couldn't torture the people who hurt Diego...I couldn't fulfill my promise to him, and not catch a death penalty. Without MK, I couldn't be the monster that I had to be. Horenda needed to die, those others needed to suffer - you see that, right? Right?"

Tea looked into those dangerous, fourth year, full-of-hate...raging-sea eyes of his. Her face crumpled with the horrific reality into which they had fallen. "Oh god...," she said, aching now. Burdened with much too much...information.

He chuckled a little, bitterness choking him... "How you like me now, mamita rica? How you like me, now?"

Opening the door, stepping outside, he tossed her the keys. He huddled deep into his long black coat and shut the car door. Gave her one last look through the misty window, nodded, and walked away, walked into the white, into what was left of the muted day. He disappeared into that cemetery with his head down, his hand out, touching the headstones as he passed.

The ghosts were alive and well...thoroughly awakened from their long sleep.

To be continued...